The Amish Innkeeper's Secret Read online

  A classic Amish tale of second chances previously titled The Inn at Hope Springs from bestselling author Patricia Davids (2010)

  Emma Wadler has made a good life for herself, running the Wadler Inn in the town of Hope Springs, Ohio. She has accepted her life as an “old maid,” and is content catering to the tourists who come to view her Amish community. She had once hoped to marry and raise a family of her own, but her fiancé died tragically when they were both only seventeen, and Emma has guarded her heart ever since.

  Adam Troyer fixes things. Having just returned to the faith after years in the English world, Adam is hoping to prove to his father that he is committed to a simple life. So he’s happy to be hired by Emma’s mother to make repairs to the inn during the winter off-season. The old Swiss-style Chalet has its share of problems, but nothing he can’t fix. Nothing except perhaps the broken heart of the owner….

  The Amish Innkeeper’s Secret

  Patricia Davids

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter One

  “Stop right there. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Inside the front door of the Wadler Inn, Adam Troyer froze, his ladder balanced precariously on his shoulder. He didn’t dare swing around to see who was scolding him. If he tried, he’d break a window or take out a row of Grandma Yoder’s jams and jellies lining the display shelves beside the door. A window could be replaced, but good gooseberry jam was a work of art. Grandma Yoder’s was the best.

  “What is the meaning of this?” A woman moved into his line of sight from behind the jam display. Planting herself in front of him, she prevented him from advancing into the lobby. Arms akimbo in her brown Amish dress, a scowl on her face beneath the white prayer cap on her auburn hair, the little woman reminded him of a hen with her feathers ruffled in annoyance. An angry Rhode Island Red with spectacles.

  He struggled to keep from laughing. “You are Emma Wadler, jah?”

  “I am. Who are you, and why are you bringing that ladder in here?” Her tone was cold as the February temperature outside.

  He swallowed his grin. He needed this job. “I’m Adam Troyer. I’m here to fix the loose stones in the fireplace and some of the shutters outside.”

  He’d only seen her a few times before this. Although they belonged to different Amish church districts, he’d spent time in Hope Springs when he’d visited his cousins. His cousin David called her a plain-faced alt maedel.

  She didn’t look that old, maybe thirty at the most. Not all that plain, either, with her peaches-and-cream complexion and full red lips. At the moment those lips were pressed into a hard line, but he figured a smile would make her almost pretty.

  Behind wire-rimmed glasses, her hazel eyes narrowed. No smile appeared. “There’s nothing wrong with our shutters. Who hired you?”

  “The owner did.”

  She folded her arms. “I’m the owner.”

  “You are?” That surprised him. Very few Amish women owned businesses outright, although many owned them jointly with their husbands.

  “I asked Mr. Parker to hire the lad, Emma. Now let him get to work. I don’t want another quilt smoked up.” A tall, gray-haired woman in a royal-blue dress crossed the room. Bright-eyed and smiling, tall and big-boned, Naomi Wadler was the opposite of her daughter in every respect.

  Stopping in front of him, she pointed to one end of the lobby. “We have several stones loose in the fireplace. Can you fix them?”

  The impressive stone structure soared two stories high and was at least eight feet wide. Made in the old-world fashion using rounded river stones in mortar with a massive timber for a mantel. Someone had added a quilt hanger near the top. It made a fine place to display a handmade quilt.

  Emma spoke up. “Don’t start work just yet, Mr. Troyer. Mudder, I need a word with you,” she stated, a hint of steel in her tone.

  As Adam watched the women leave the room, he had the sinking feeling he was about to lose this much-needed job.

  Chapter Two

  Emma led the way to the small office behind the front desk and closed the door after her mother. “I wish you had discussed this with me. We can’t afford to have a lot of work done. I can take care of most things myself.”

  “Nonsense. We can’t afford not to get the work done. And now is the best time—it’s the middle of winter and we have so few guests. Mr. Parker mentioned to me his growing list of things that need repairs. Didn’t he mention them to you?”

  “He did. I will get to them.”

  Emma had hired Mr. Parker to take over the day-to-day contact with guests and to handle the phone and computerized reservations that her religion didn’t allow her to do. He had been an invaluable employee for five years. If he felt the need to go over her head, she shouldn’t have brushed aside his concerns.

  “I discussed it with Dr. White when I ran into him at the grocery store yesterday,” Naomi said. “He does own half this inn. I felt he needed to know.”

  He owned fifty-one percent to be exact. Dr. Harold White was the town’s only physician. He and her father had been great friends. She could not own such a business by herself outright because of her religious restrictions so she had asked Dr. White for his help. Her bishop found it acceptable because she was unmarried and because she was working for a non-Amish partner. Dr. White left her completely in charge of running the place and that suited them both.

  Her mother pressed her point. “Adam Troyer’s rates are reasonable. Do you want a stone or a shutter to drop on some poor Englischer’s head? Besides, Dr. White’s not happy the place is getting run-down.”

  “It is not getting run-down. A little shabby maybe.”

  Her mother merely raised one eyebrow.

  Emma relented and admitted her mother was right. “Very well, there are some things that need fixing.”

  Naomi smiled brightly. “Jah, there are. You don’t have to be the one doing all the work at this inn. You work too hard as it is.”

  Emma held her tongue. Her mother didn’t understand that hard work was the only thing that kept the loneliness at bay.

  Moving forward, Naomi reached out to straighten Emma’s prayer kapp. “Did you notice what a nice smile the young man has?”

  “I noticed he almost knocked down our jam display.” Emma submitted to her mother’s attention although she suspected her kapp was already perfectly straight.

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to smile back at a young man once in a while.” Suddenly, Naomi sneezed, then sneezed again.

  Emma took two quick steps away. The last thing she wanted was to cause her mother discomfort. What had she been thinking?

  Rubbing her nose, Naomi said, “Sorry, I don’t know what started that. You look tired, Emma. Is everything okay?”

  She should look tired. She’d been up every two hours through the night for the past two nights. She wasn’t about to explain why. How could she expect her mother to understand when she didn’t know herself why she’d taken on a task doomed to failure? “I’m fine. I must get to work.”

  “And Adam Troyer stays, jah?” her mother asked.

  Emma wasn’t about to
make a promise she might regret. “We shall see.”

  Chapter Three

  Emma opened her office door and walked out into the lobby. Adam had set his ladder on the floor. Her jams and jellies were no longer in danger.

  He stood by the fireplace carefully examining the stonework. He had taken off his hat and coat, giving her a view of his tall, lean frame. His hair, sandy brown and curly, was trimmed in the same bowl cut all Amish men wore. Since he didn’t have a beard she knew he was unmarried.

  Why was he still single at his age? He had to be in his late twenties or early thirties.

  His plain clothes fit him well. His suspenders drew attention from where his broad shoulders filled out his white shirt down to where his dark trousers accentuated his narrow waist and lean hips.

  And what was she doing thinking about such things when she had an inn to run?

  Naomi pointed to the top of the fireplace. “Our innkeeper noticed at least two stones loose near the ceiling when he was taking down the last quilt I sold. I’ll show you which ones, but there may be others.”

  Emma clasped her hands in front of her. “Exactly how many fireplaces such as this have you repaired, Mr. Troyer?”

  Adam looked at her. “Like this one? None.”

  She blinked. “None? And you expect me to hire you?”

  Adam didn’t appear the least put out by her remark. His eyes twinkled as he said, “This will be the largest fireplace I’ve worked on but the repair principle is the same. I can do the job.”

  She would have to trust him. The smoke leaking out around the loose stones had left soot marks on the quilt and ceiling. “It appears you have a job. If your work is satisfactory we will discuss additional projects tomorrow morning.”

  Beaming a bright grin at her, he crossed the room and held out his hand. “That’s a deal then, Emma.”

  Hesitating only a fraction of the second, she took his hand. “Jah, we have a deal.”

  His large fingers engulfed her small ones as he pumped her arm with vigor. The warmth of his touch took her by surprise. The calloused strength of his hand gripping hers did funny things to her insides. Looking up into his smiling face, she was tempted to smile back, but she didn’t. Instead she pulled her hand away and folded her arms tightly across her middle.

  He might be a handsome man with his curly hair and bright blue eyes, but that shouldn’t matter. If he did a good job, then she would be pleased.

  She didn’t want to admit the warmth of his hand and the friendliness of his smile caused butterflies in the pit of her stomach. She had put such foolishness behind her after the death of her fiancé ten years ago. Her heart lay in pieces in the cold ground with William, her one true love.

  The grandfather clock in the corner began to chime the hour. Emma realized with a start that she was late. “Continue with your work, Mr. Troyer. I will be back to check on you.”

  She rushed through the kitchen, grabbing her coat from the hook on her way out. Pulling on her coat in the cold air, she prayed she would still find all was well, but she knew not to expect too much.

  Chapter Four

  Adam was finishing the fireplace when Emma showed up again. He’d found several others stones that needed repair and noticed a half dozen tiles on the large hearth with cracked grout. No one had asked him to repair those, but he couldn’t leave a job half-done. Emma had purchased the mortar. The least he could do was get her money’s worth out of it.

  He remained on his knees by the hearth as he waited for her assessment of his work. She stepped up to run her hand along the repaired tiles. It was then he noticed bits of straw clinging to the back of her skirt and her dark socks.

  Frowning, she gestured toward the top of the fireplace. “The repairs don’t match the rest.”

  “The mortar is still damp. When it dries it will be hard to tell the old from the new. Hand me that rag and I’ll finish evening out these grout lines.”

  Picking up a red cloth in a small basin behind her, she held it out. “This one?”

  “Jah.” He gestured toward her skirt. “You have some straw stuck on you.”

  To his surprise, her cheeks turned bright red. She brushed at it quickly. “I was seeing to our horse.”

  Like many Amish who no longer found employment on the farm, she still maintained a small stable and a buggy horse to carry her and her mother to church meetings and other gatherings. He had seen their neat white house and little stable on the street behind the inn. Why was she embarrassed about a little straw on her skirt? Taking the rag from her, he began to wipe the tiles free of the excess mortar.

  “You missed a spot.”

  He leaned back and looked over his work. “Where?”

  Taking up a second rag, she knelt beside him and began wiping at a spot he had already done. Finishing, she leaned back to study her work, then began wiping again. As she concentrated, her tongue peeked out from between her lips. How kissable she looked.

  He pulled his gaze away from her face as his neck grew hot. Why on earth was he thinking about kissing her? That kind of loose thinking belonged to his past. She was a respectable Amish woman. Maybe his father was right and he couldn’t give up his English ways after so many years.

  Nee, I refuse to accept that.

  Returning to his Amish family was the best decision he’d ever made. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was what he believed God wanted him to do.

  He concentrated on his work. When Emma followed behind him going over the same places he did, he finally stopped and sat back on his heels. “You don’t get a discount for helping me.”

  She gave her spot a final swipe. “Perhaps I should.”

  “If the work isn’t to your satisfaction, you may say so.” He held his breath. He really needed this job. He was determined to prove to his father that he could live Amish again. Earning a living was a first step.

  “The work looks good enough,” she admitted slowly.

  His hopes rose. “I can start with the shutters now, if you like.”

  “Come back in the morning. And be careful taking that ladder out of here.”

  “I will. I don’t want to break any of Grandma Yoder’s delicious jams,” he teased.

  Folding her rag, she casually began wiping the tiles again. “You like Grandma Yoder’s products?”

  “They’re the best. Especially the gooseberry jam.”

  A tiny smile flashed across her face. It disappeared quickly, but not so quickly that he missed it. He had been right. It made her plain face almost pretty.

  Chapter Five

  The following morning, Adam was waiting in the lobby when Emma came in to start her day. She glanced at the tall grandfather clock in the corner. It was three minutes until six.

  Adam shot to his feet, a bright grin on his face. “Guder mariye, Emma. Have you a list of jobs for me?”

  Her mother was right. He did have a nice smile. And he was eager to get to work. She liked that. She tipped her head toward him. “Good morning to you, too. Yes, I have a list of things that need doing.”

  Behind the front desk, Mr. Parker leaned his elbows on the polished oak countertop. “Make sure he gets the ice off those gutters before they tear loose.”

  “It’s on my list, Henry,” she replied.

  To her surprise, some of the color left Adam’s face.“I won’t be able to do that for you,” he said.

  Henry blew out a huff of exasperation. “Too bad, because they’re calling for more snow this weekend. Are those the breakfast rolls, Emma?”

  Henry came around the counter to take the basket of muffins and rolls Emma carried. Their four guests would be down soon for their continental-style breakfast. When Henry lifted the heavy towel to peek inside, the aroma of the hot cinnamon rolls filled the air.

  She glanced at Adam. His eyes brightened. “Those smell wunderbaar. Makes me wish I was a guest here.”

  How could she resist such a blatant appeal? “Help yourself, Mr. Troyer.”

  “Danki, but call
me Adam.” He selected one. When he bit into it, his eyes closed and he made a small sound of satisfaction that did her heart good. He liked her baked goods.

  She might be a plain old maid but she could cook. The prideful thought brought her back to earth with a thud. Every gift was God-given and not of her making. Humility was one of the cornerstones of her faith. Pride was a sin.

  Heading to the sideboard in the dining room, she began setting out plates, cups and juice glasses. With everything arranged to her satisfaction, she spun around and almost collided with Adam. She couldn’t back up with the sideboard behind her. Those crazy butterflies took flight again in her midsection.

  After licking the last bit of icing from his finger, he said, “Are you the goot cook or is it your mother?”

  “I’m sure my mother is the better cook, but I made the rolls this morning.”

  “It would be hard to make a better cinnamon roll than that.” Reaching out, he brushed at her temple. Shocked, she pulled back and saw he held a long piece of straw between his fingers.

  He smiled softly. Her heart faltered. “Wouldn’t want the guests to think you’ve been rolling in the hay.”

  “Danki.” She sidled past him and hurried toward her office. Inside, she shut the door and leaned against it as she worked to calm her racing pulse. “How am I going to work with that man around?”

  Chapter Six

  What was it about Adam Troyer? Why did he have such an unsettling effect on her nerves? He was a simple handyman. He wasn’t even that handsome.

  Okay, he was, she admitted, but she’d never been susceptible to such shallow things before.

  It wasn’t even that he looked like William. Will had been only a few inches taller than she was. He hadn’t towered over her making her feel small. His white-blond hair had looked like a sleek halo in the sunlight, not like the curly mess that topped Adam’s head. Where Adam was always smiling, Will had been serious and earnest. As she always tried to be.